The Squints' Secret Singularities
by niah1988
Summary: Everyone has a habit, a trait or style that is unique to them. But you can also be sure that it's bound to drive someone up the wall. Our squints discover each others. [Cowritten with skellingtonlover]
1. About Eye Rolling And Hair Buns

Author's note: Because our partnership worked so well for Under The Influence, Skelly and I decided to give it another try. :) For those of you who are waiting for another chapter of LOTL, my beta's currently weeding through all my grammar mistakes. lol To the readers of A Little Fun Under The Sun, the next part will be up on Tuesday. :)

Disclaimer: We don't own Bones. That goes up for this thing here as well as for the following chapters.

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**-° About Rolling Eyes And Hair Buns °-  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Stop pacing around, Booth."

He slowed down a bit to snap at her, "Work faster then!"

"I'm working as fast as I can, Booth. Remains must be handled with care."

Booth muttered something that sounded a lot like "care, my ass" under his breath as he resumed his nervous pacing around. Brennan tried to block him out as she picked up the skull for closer examination. However, Booth made that impossible as his muttering grew louder. Irritated to no end, Brennan put the skull down again and swivelled around to face the impatient FBI-agent.

"Booth!" she snapped, rolling her eyes.

Booth immediately pointed a finger at her face. "Don't do that."

Brennan frowned. "Don't do what?"

"That thing with your eyes. Don't do it."

Her frown deepened. "What _thing_ with my eyes?"

Taking a step closer to her, he waved his fingers at her face. "You know, the rolling thing."

She tilted her head slightly up and turned her eyes heavenwards.

"There!" Booth exclaimed. "That thing right there."

Brennan's gaze flew back to Booth. She gave him an incredulous look when she saw him approach her some more. They were each standing at a side of the metal examination table, gazing at each other. Booth once again pointed at her face, more specifically at her eyes.

"You just did that rolling thing again."

"Booth, I did not…" Temperance started, rolling her eyes heavenwards again.

"Stop it, Bones!" He put his hands on the examination table and leaned forward. "One of these days your eyes are going to roll out of their sockets. Either that or they'll stick that way. If they do, you can always audition for the part of a zombie."

Her eyebrows shot up. "That's humanly impossible, Booth. And get your hands off my table!" She slapped his hands away. "Zombies and such nonsense. We don't all believe in Jesus you know!"

"Jesus is not a zombie! Come on, Bones! You must know what I'm talking about! Every time I say something you think is stupid, you roll your eyes."

Letting out a deep sigh, she sent him a piercing glare "Booth, practically everything you say in the lab is stupid. I'm telling you…"

"It's a bad habit, Bones. A _very_ bad habit," Booth interrupted her. He continued, muttering "You should get a rolling patch to cure you from that habit. You know, like those nicotine patches?"

She was about to roll her eyes again but refrained herself just in time from doing so. _Damn it, he's right. I hate it when he's right._ Instead, she glared at him again and turned her attention back to the skeleton lying on her table. Booth went back to pacing around, which unnerved her to no end but she knew he was going to bring the rolling eyes business up again if she asked him to stand still. So she ignored him as much as she could.

Until he came up behind her to take a peek over her shoulder.

"Booth!" she scowled. "You're invading my personal space. Back up a mile or two."

She could practically feel him shrug. "So what? I'm just trying to see what's taking so long."

_Stay Zen, Temperance. Stay Zen…_ Brennan drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled before she resumed her squinting at the skull for what must've been the tenth time in twenty minutes.

That was until her partner found another way to irritate her. She was _this_ close to slapping him.

Even though she had her back turned to him she could sense him becoming still. That wasn't a good sign concerning Booth. Maybe he'd actually learned some patience. Then she felt him tug at her hair bun.

"Booth!" she growled. "Let go of my hair!"

Booth mumbled something in response but continued his tugging. "Really Bones, why do you always wear it up? It looks much better down."

She squirmed to get away from him but he had her trapped effectively between his body and the examination table. He even put one hand on her hip to keep her still. Brennan froze when she felt her entire backside being pushed flush against him. She guessed realisation hit home with Booth as well when the hand tugging at her hair bun stilled. Neither of them spoke for a few moments until Booth cleared his throat.

"Uhm… Bones… Sorry 'bout that…"

The only answer he got was a sharp shove of her elbow against his ribcage. Stumbling a bit back while holding a hand over the sore spot, he groaned "Bones!"

"Personal space, remember? You stay out of it and you don't end up crippled."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. I'll respect your 'personal space'. Just get back to those remains, please." Booth watched her pick up the skull again. "And do you think you could work a bit faster?"

"Booth!"

From annoying the hell out of each other to an awkward, but a very exciting moment nonetheless, and back again to their usual bickering in less than five minutes. _That's how it's always been and that's how it's always going to be,_ Brennan thought.

"I'm finished," she said at last, exasperated with Booth and his complete lack of understanding at how long it took with bones to get things right.

"Hallejuh!" he shouted excitedly.

He grabbed her coat and flung it at her, hitting her square in the chest.

Disgruntled, she said, "You're too impatient Booth."

"I am not!" Booth whined.

"Yes you are. I think even Mother Teresa would have wrung your neck."

Booth shot Brennan a nasty glare before jumping into the SUV and driving towards the Chinese take-away.

---°---

They were at Brennan's place now, each digging through a box of Chinese food with a pair of chopsticks.

Booth cleared his throat. "Seriously Bones, why is your hair always up in a bun?"

"Have you ever tried to examine bones with your hair constantly falling in your eyes and blocking your view?" Brennan asked.

Shoving another bite of Chinese into his mouth, Booth retorted "But you're not examining bones now so why is your hair still up?"

Brennan shrugged. "Does that matter?"

"No, I guess not," he shrugged back. "I just like it more when it's down."

She rolled her eyes and emitted a deep sigh.

"You're doing that thing with your eyes again," Booth joked. "Seriously, we've got to have a swear box for eye rolls with you."

Glaring at him for making that last comment, she said "Fine, I'll let my hair down then." She put her chopsticks and food box down and brought her hands to the back of her head.

Booth put down his things as well. "No, Bones. Let me do it," he said hastily.

Ignoring the strange look she threw him, he reached up for her bun, gently loosening it and letting her hair fall down. He admired the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders before he murmured "There. That's better. Much better."

"Don't tell me you're one of those guys who gets a kick out of touching women's hair."

He feigned hurt for a moment. "That's not nice of you, Bones. I thought we had agreed that you were going to be a bit nicer to me?"

"That was before I knew you liked to touch people's hair."

"Hey, how did we go from women's to people's hair?" he shot back. "Besides, I didn't know you were one of those women who like men touching her hair." A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "You know, if you ever feel the urge to let your hair be touched," he breathed, saying the last part saucily. "Just give me a call and I'll be there as quick as I can. Wouldn't wanna miss a night at Brennan's salon."

"Booth, I don't…" she began, rolling her eyes. When she saw the amused look on his face, she left her sentence unfinished and instead snapped at him "One more word about me rolling my eyes and I'm poking _your_ eyes out with my chopsticks!"

* * *

_So, who's next in line? Angela, Booth, Hodgins or Zach? You can tell us in a review. :)_


	2. Big Spender Conspiracy

Author's note: Yay, another chapter! My co-writer, skellingtonlover, did a fab job on this one so I'd appreciate it if you guys said thank you to her in a review. :)

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**-° Big Spender Conspiracy °-  
-----------------------------------------------------------**

It was on days like these that he cursed his urge to live like a regular human being instead of like the multi-millionaire that he was.

Hodgins lazily crawled out of bed at 6am when his alarm clock beeped off. Scratching his side and pulling his pyjama bottoms with bunny pattern straight, he padded over to the bathroom. He cursed profusely when all he got was ice cold water when he turned the shower on. Another string of curses followed when he found out he had forgotten his shampoo, which meant he had to splash across the entire room to get a new bottle from the shelve next to the mirror.

A lot of cursing and jumping under and away from the ice cold spray of water later, the entomologist checked himself in the mirror. _Not bad,_ he thought as he pulled back his shoulders, flexed his muscles, and then turned sideways to take a look at his belly. _Not bad at all._ He quickly changed from his towel into his clothes. Next on the list was his hair.

His co-workers would die of laughter if they ever found out how much time he spent every morning taking care of his hair. Hodgins pulled out the hairdryer to carefully dry and brush his curls. Usually he applied a bit of gel to keep his curls in line but today he felt a bit more adventurous. He grabbed the bottle of hairspray he had purchased the other day and sprayed a reasonable amount onto his hair. It was cemented into place. _Perfection_. With his careful expertise, he would have done Marilyn Monroe proud. He preened a little more in the mirror, humming 'You Sexy Thing' under his breath before leaving for work.

---°---

"Hey Zack-o, where are Dr. Brennan and Dr. Soroyan?"

"Dr. Soroyan is in a meeting with the board and Dr. Brennan is at FBI Headquarters, interrogating a suspect together with Agent Booth," Zack eagerly replied.

Hodgins rubbed his hands in glee. "You know what that means, right?" At receiving a puzzled stare from his co-worker, he continued "Illegal experiments, here we come! Not had a chance to frazzle something in ages!"

Without further ado he dragged Zack with him to one of the separate examination rooms to begin an experiment that he could only perform with Brennan and Cam out of the way.

Twenty minutes later Angela Montenegro happened to walk past that same examination room, which was now filled with smoke. "Guys? Are you in there?" she hesitantly yelled into the large purple cloud steadily moving out of the room into the hallway.

About ten seconds later Zack and Hodgins emerged, both wearing masks to cover their mouths. Hodgins slammed the door shut behind him to prevent the smoke from invading the hallway even more. He'd clean up that mess later. First he had to check if his hair was still in place.

"Why must you two always play with your chemistry sets to produce nuclear explosions?" Angela asked in exasperation.

Angela's question and Zack coughing like there was a fishbone stuck in his throat prevented him from rushing away. The entomologist comradely slapped his co-worker on the back, mumbling something along the line of "You're not used to much, aren't you, Zack my man?"

The next thing that stopped him from running off to the bathroom to check his hair, was a loud shriek produced by Angela. He swivelled around to check if everything was all right but was met with Angela bend over double from laughing. Not sure what was going on exactly, he gave her a concerned look while patting her shoulder in a comforting way.

"Are you all right, Angela? Tell me you didn't inhale that smoke."

"It's not that…" the artist hiccupped. "It's… It's…" Because a new fit of laughter made it impossible for her to continue, she just pointed upwards, at his hair. "You've got a little something there."

Hodgins' eyes became as big as saucers. _Not the hair. Not _my_ hair._ He hurried to the bathroom as fast as he could… and came to an abrupt stop when he laid eyes on his reflexion in the mirror.

Every curl was still in place. His hair was just fine.

Except for its new colour…

---°---

It had taken a lot of time, not to mention a lot of pushing and bribing, but he had finally gotten Angela and Zack out of his office. Satisfied that maybe now he could get some work done without constantly being interrupted by Angela's giggles and Zack's chuckles -boy genius could chuckle, who would've thought that?- because of what he was wearing on his head.

He carefully tucked a couple of loose purple curls back under Angela's elf hat that she had worn to the Christmas party last year. She had teased him mercilessly with comments like, "Didn't know you did kid's parties in your spare time, Jack." or "Look, Christmas has come early this year. And it looks like the elves are sporting a new fashion range on their hair."

He pulled out his iPod. No Cam and no Dr. Brennan around to check on him, there were two things he could do: perform illegal experiments and listen to music while working. The first one had had a disastrous outcome for him -how was he ever going to get his hair back to normal?- so he decided to go for the last option. Hodgins popped in his earplugs before pressing play and turning the volume up high. He skipped a couple of songs before one of his all-time favourites burst from his earplugs right into his ears.

_The minute you walked in the joint  
I could see you were a man of distinction  
A real big spender…_

Bobbing his head along the words, thereby making the bells on his hat ring cheerfully, Hodgins closed his eyes and began humming along.

_So let me get right to the point  
I don't pop my cork for every guy I see  
Hey, big spender!  
Spend a little time with me…_

By the time the song neared its end, Hodgins was singing along at the top of his voice. The song had such a grip on him that he was even dancing along.

"Hey big spender!" he croaked, throwing his hands up in the air. "How about a palsy? Yeah!"

The moment the final notes of the song died away, he opened his eyes, half expecting his colleagues to be standing in the door. He breathed out a sigh of relief and grinned when he saw he was still alone.

His grin grew even larger when he heard the next song.

_Tonight's the night we're gonna make it happen  
Tonight we'll put all other things aside_

"I'm so excited… and I just can't hide it!" he sang in a high-pitched voice, skipping around his office while performing some disco moves he remembered John Travolta do in Saturday Night Fever. "I'm about to lose control and I think I like it!"

Hodgins was just starting to sing along to the final chorus when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He slowly opened his eyes to find Angela standing in the doorway, happily smiling while keeping her camera pointed in his direction.

Embarrassed to no end, he quickly pulled the plugs from his ears and shoved his iPod in the pocket of his lab coat.

"Ah come on, Hodgie," Angela begged. "I was just getting excited as well! A few more moves and you could have become the Dancing Queen!"

He crossed the room in three large steps. "This can _never_ be shown to anyone, Angela. You have to destroy that tape!"

"Only if I get something good in return."

"How about I cover for you while you go on a week-long spending spree, my treat? Just think of all the nice shoes and handbags that are screaming your name!" he said, coaxing her.

"Deal," she agreed, shaking hands with him.

The artist turned around to walk away. But not before she had playfully tapped his hat while saying "Looks good on you, Santa's Little Helper."

---°---

The next day Hodgins rushed through the lab to Brennan's office to show her what he had found on the last set of remains Booth had brought in.

"Dr. Brennan, I think you should see this," he said while stepping into her office.

All colour drained from his face when he saw the pictures playing over Brennan's computer screen. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he watched himself dance around the lab, loudly singing along to 'Big Spender' and 'I'm So Excited'. His surprise was replaced by a look of horror when the camera zoomed in on the elf hat on his head with purple curls peeking out from under the edge. He looked like a clown who'd went a little overboard into entertaining the kids.

His hand flew up to his hair. Fortunately he had gotten it back to its regular colour thanks to a three hour session at the hairdresser. Not to mention the fact the hairdresser had rolled around laughing for half an hour before she'd even started on his hair.

"Nice to know you consider the lab as your own private dance studio, Hodgins," Temperance interrupted his thoughts. "But could you keep the singing to a minimum the next time? And what happened to your hair?" The last part was said with what Hodgins could only identify as a snicker.

"How did you get that video?"

Temperance shrugged just when Angela and Zack entered the office.

"You!" Hodgins shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Angela. "I thought we had a deal?"

"It wasn't me," Angela defended herself.

He stared at her. _If it isn't Angela, then…_ He slowly turned to look at his younger co-worker. _Zack?_

"You were right, Hodgins. Revenge is very sweet."

Hodgins felt the anger mixed with embarrassment and disbelief rise within him. That little snotrag boy genius wannabe Will Ferrell.

"Conspiracy! It's all one big conspiracy!"


	3. Sugarhigh

Author's note: Three guesses at who's turn it is to have his (or her) secret habits revealed? °evil laugh° Loads of thanks to my co-author, skellingtonlover. I love your humour, Skelly!

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**-° Sugarhigh °-  
---------------------------------------------------**

Her curves were almost too much to take in. His mouth went dry as his eyes flew over her lines, smooth and round in just the right places. He reached out to trace those curves. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, imagining the freedom he'd feel when he'd hear her spin. His fascination was irrational and everything but understandable. He knew the dangers. He understood the risks of his intense study, but he couldn't help himself. There just was something about those curves and the strength hidden behind them.

"Zack, get your butt down here! Unless you wanna be late?" Hodgins shouted.

"I'll be right there!" he yelled back. Just two more minutes with her.

He once again indulged in her beauty. Oh, if only she was real…

Hodgins threw the door open. "Zack, if you don't come along right now you're walking to the lab. And that is something I'd pay money to see."

The young scientist quickly tucked away the magazine he had been gawking at. Hodgins gave him a suspicious look, before slowly approaching his co-worker.

"What's that?"

"What's what?" Zack replied, grabbing his coat and pretending nothing was wrong.

"That magazine."

"What magazine?"

Hodgins narrowed his eyes. "Don't play that game with me, Zack. I saw you shove something under your pillow. It looked a lot like a magazine."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zack evenly said, but he inched closer to his bed anyway just in case he hadn't tucked the magazine away properly and Hodgins wanted to make a dive for it.

Suddenly a large grin broke over Hodgins' face. "Oh I understand it now…" He comradely slapped Zack on the back. "The real thing is better, you know."

His cryptic statement confused Zack long enough to let him pass. Before Zack could even utter so much as a protest, Hodgins had snatched the magazine from under his pillow. His face went from excited to disappointed in a matter of seconds.

"What's this?"

"A magazine."

"Dude, I can see that."

"Then why do you ask?"

Hodgins threw the magazine back onto the bed. "It's a car magazine. A _car magazine_, Zack!"

Zack raised his eyebrows. "Of course it is. What else did you expect, Playboy?"

"At least now you've confirmed my beliefs that you are, in fact, a robot."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you'd rather look at pictures of cars than of naked women. Your mom would be proud, I'm not."

"Who said I wanted you to be proud of me?"

"I did. After the whole I'm So Excited incident, you should want my approval."

Zack grinned. "Oh that."

Hodgins whacked him across the back of the head with the magazine. "Now get shifting or a picture of this baby..." he indicated the car on the front. "...is getting stuck to every noticeboard bearing the message, 'Guess what me and Zack Addy did last night?'"

Zack huffed in annoyance. "Consider me shifted."

---°---

"A car magazine is even worse than a Looney Tunes comic book."

Zack ignored him and continued peering into a microscope. His friend hadn't mentioned the magazine up till now, while they were at the lab, examining something important for Dr. Brennan.

"I would've congratulated you if it had been a Playboy magazine."

Zack frowned. _He would've congratulated me if I had been looking at nude pictures? Where's the logic in that statement?_

"But a car magazine?" Hodgins exclaimed, disbelief dripping from his words. The entomologist shook his head. "We've really got to find you a girl."

The young scientist tore his eyes away from the specimen under his microscope to look at Hodgins. "Why?"

"Because there is something seriously wrong when a healthy single guy, who doesn't have a driver's licence and is basically scared of cars, is drooling over a picture of a red Dodge Viper instead of a red-headed long-legged beauty."

"I'm not scared of cars," Zack defended himself. "I'm just aware of the statistics of people who die in car accidents."

"And yet you drool over a car magazine." Hodgins shook his head.

"It's not like you haven't got some irrational quirks, Mr. Big Spender," Zack returned before turning his attention back to his microscope.

"That's low," Hodgins mumbled. His gaze wavered between the spores he had been examining five minutes ago and his young colleague. Deciding that the latter was far more interesting to study -and to annoy without a doubt- he pulled off his latex gloves and sauntered over to Zack who was once again fully concentrated on his work.

"We really should get you a girl, Zack-o," he began.

Zack ignored him. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, he would go away.

"Why haven't you found someone yet?" Hodgins queried.

Zack ignored him again. Now he was hoping Hodgins would go and die quietly.

Hodgins scratched his beard while studying his colleague. "Maybe it's the clothes." He contemplated his words for a second. "No, it can't be the clothes. Unless you wear your lab coat when you go out clubbing?"

No reaction whatsoever from Zack. He didn't see the problem with wearing his lab coat out. It made a nice evening jacket and it always made the ladies smile.

"Why do you always button it up like that? There's no harm in letting it hang open. It would give you a much more casual look."

Still no sign that Zack was listening. Casual look? Clearly Hodgins had inhaled one too many spores.

"Or maybe it's the hair," Hodgins tried.

Zack wisely choose to ignore his co-worker. He wouldn't give Hodgins the pleasure of getting him agitated over something as futile as his haircut. He even decided that he wouldn't throw a barbed comment at Hodgins and his curls.

"No, it's probably your urge to dedicate every waking minute to your work."

This made Zack frown. "What's wrong with loving your job?"

Hodgins grinned. He finally had Zack's attention. "Nothing. You just have to know when to quit and go out to get some."

"I'm perfectly fine with how everything is now, thank you," Zack said as he resumed his squinting at the specimen. "And get some what?"

Hodgins shook his head. "And get some pink fluffy pigeons that'll carry you to the Land of Pretty Red Motor Cars. Get some what, honestly!" He shook his head after another minute of studying his co-worker. "Now I know what's wrong. You're always crossing your arms and scratching your ears." Hodgins commented.

He received the most confused look he had ever seen.

"I scratch my ears?"

"Yeah, you do."

"When?" Zack asked.

Hodgins shrugged. "You just do."

"Give me a precise date and hour."

"What?" Hodgins shot out incredulous.

"You heard me. Date and hour, please." Hodgins remained quiet. Zack decisively nodded his head. "Just what I thought. You're making the whole thing up."

And with that he blocked out his friend and continued his examination of whatever was lying under his microscope.

---°---

Sugar. He desperately needed some sugar. No-one at the lab knew this, but whenever Zack Addy reached the point of no return, only something sugary could bring him down again.

Hodgins persistent questions had thrown him off balance. Why the entomologist had made it his personal mission to prep Zack for a night out was beyond his comprehension. He had never been interested in painting the town red, so why would he be now? Because Hodgins had discovered his secret fascination for cars? Or because Hodgins had teased him all day about his unconscious habit of scratching his ears?

Zack shook his head. He was just glad that Hodgins hadn't been able to give him an exact date and hour. As long as he was careful not to scratch his ears in public again, he'd be safe from all the teasing and the I-told-you-so's. Bloody Hodgins. If he wasn't careful, he would buy that red Dodge Viper and drive it to work. If only to run Hodgins down.

For now he just had to find something sugary to calm him down. And he knew just where to find it.

---°---

"Zack, what are your findings?" Brennan asked her young colleague.

"Female, 22 to 25 years old, Hispanic, cause of death shot through the back of the head," he monotonously stated.

"Good work, Zack," she praised him. "You got that all down, Booth?"

The agent in question nodded his head in response.

"Dr. Brennan, I have found something unusual on the skull."

She motioned at the large monitor standing on their left. "Bring it up on screen, Zack."

He obliged, but cursed his need for obedience five seconds later. Not to mention Hodgins.

Instead of an enlarged picture of the anomaly he had found on the skull, there was a picture of him, standing in the doorway of Angela's office. To his horror the picture began to move. It was a video clip!

Zack and the entire team watched how he carefully sneaked into Angela's office, constantly looking over his shoulder. All that was missing was the Pink Panther tune. Or the Mission Impossible one. The young scientist made a bee line for her desk, where he once again checked his surroundings by throwing suspicious looks at the door. To everyone's surprise he went straight for the third drawer on the left. It almost looked like he knew his way around her office.

Zack gulped. He furiously hoped the video would stop there.

Unfortunately it did not. Zack felt like leaping down the stairs of the platform and fleeing to his office to escape the amused looks his friends were shooting him.

Ten seconds later all his co-workers stared at the screen where the camera zoomed in on him coming up from the drawer with three lollipops stuffed in his mouth. It also didn't help that he was wearing gloves, like CSI were about to dust the crime scene.

He felt like strangling whoever was responsible for this embarrassment, even though he didn't believe in violence. Except for today, where Hodgins looked like just the right candidate to start his own boxing match.

Now he reckoned would be a good time to throw himself off the platform. Maybe he could swipe his passcard on the way down. He watched himself suckle on three lollipops at the same time, but the urge to run and never look back became overwhelming when he saw himself reach up to scratch his ear.

Hodgins crossed his arms and gave him a smug smile. "Today, at 2.34pm. There's your precise date and hour."

All he could do was stare at his colleague, and former best friend. He calculated how effectively he could bash Hodgins head in with a microscope. Quite effectively apparently.

"Oh and Zack?" His smile became even more smug. "Payback's a bitch, isn't it?"


	4. Curiosity Killed Her Toenails

Author's notes: I'm on a roll tonight. First my CBPC for May and now this baby here. Skelly and I would appreciate it if you guys left us a review. Or just roll around on the floor laughing, hehe.

* * *

**--° Curiosity Killed Her Toenails °--  
---------------------------------------------------------**

Her new pair of high heels clicked on the lab floor as Angela made her way to her office. She struggled for a moment to get into her office because all the bags she was carrying got in the way. Finally, after a couple of minutes of pushing and squeezing, she burst through the door, spilling the contents of her bags all over the place.

Mumbling a couple of curses, she squatted down to collect all the shoes, tops, skirts and trousers and put them back in her bags. She had bought them on her week-long shopping trip Hodgins had offered her. She had enough stuff to put Chanel out of business. Or at least be invited to the Christmas Party.

She overlooked the stack of bags on the ground and grinned.

_They're not going to believe their eyes. Or how sexy my new shoes are._

Angela spun around and rushed out of the room, past the platform and straight into Brennan's office.

"Morning, Bren!" she greeted the anthropologist. "How has the last week been 'sans moi'?"

Brennan's eyebrows shot up. "French, Angela?"

"When you spend a week in Paris, you're bound to pick up a French man or two. Oh did I say man, I meant word!"

"Oh right, your shopping spree. How did it go?"

Angela shrugged. "Bought a couple of things. Climbed the Eiffel Tower. Harassed a couple of French guys with baguettes. Bought another couple of things. Nothing important. What happened while I was gone?"

Now Brennan shrugged. "It was a quiet week. If I didn't know any better, I'd say all the serial killers decided to take the week off as well. Either that, or they were buying as many shoes as Paris could make."

"Bones!"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Sounds like the serial killers are at it again. You couldn't whack Booth with a stiletto, could you?"

Booth rushed into the room, his flashy tie loose and a vanilla coloured folder in his hands. "We've got a case, Bones!" He came to a stop next to her chair. "Come on, get moving, Bones. I don't have all day."

Sighing deeply, she rolled her eyes at him. "Take it easy, Booth. That corpse isn't going to run away. It's not like it's got a bike or anything."

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"You're doing it again, the eye rolling thing."

"Booth! Not this discussion again!" Brennan warned him as she got up.

Without further ado, Booth pushed her past Angela and out of the office. He stopped for a second to say, "Hey Angela. Bye Angela."

The artist watched them rush off, Brennan swatting Booth's hands away when he tried to pull her bun. Angela shook her head. _Those two… A pair of teenagers, I tell you!_

---°---

A while later Brennan arrived back at the Jeffersonian with a fresh set of remains. Angela was waiting for her on the platform, tapping her shoes to a beat that suspiciously sounded like _Big Spender_.

"The skull's intact, Angela. A facial reconstruction shouldn't be too much of a problem."

She was about to walk to her office to get her lab coat, when she caught sight of Angela's clothes. Brennan planted her hands on her hips and eyed her best friend up and down.

"You weren't wearing that top this morning," she stated.

Angela smiled at her. "Good observation. Do you like it?"

After one last glance-over, the anthropologist shrugged and stalked off. Angela snickered. _Just wait until she gets to her office._

"Angela!" Brennan yelled. "Why is there a drawing of Booth on my desk?"

"It's a present!"

Angela once again snickered when she heard Brennan huff and close the door.

---°---

Later that day Booth came barging in again. He went straight to Brennan's office.

"Hey Bones, how is our dead guy doing?"

He came to a skidding stop when he saw heaps of papers strewn around Brennan's desk. With raised eyebrows he picked one up. On the paper was a drawing of him and Brennan hugging. He picked up another one. This time it was one of them walking beside each other.

"Lemme guess… Angela had too much spare time while she was in France."

Brennan sighed. "You guessed right. She seems to feel the need to showcase our lives."

"Hey guys!" a voice came from the doorway.

Booth and Brennan turned around to find Angela standing there, wearing a skirt and a pink top. Brennan frowned.

"Don't tell me you've switched clothes again?"

"I see you two have discovered my drawings," Angela said, not paying any attention to Brennan.

"Discovered? They were flooding my office when I got back from the crime scene! I practically needed rescuing from the sea of them!" Brennan exclaimed.

"Now, now Bones. No need to sing my praises about saving you and all," Booth chuckled at Brennan's annoyed look.

Angela dismissed her words with a wave of her hands. "Discover, flood… Doesn't matter. Don't you two like them? My drawing pencils almost flatlined while I was there!"

"That's a shame," Brennan said sarcastically. "When's the ceremony?"

Booth arched one eyebrow. "Could you leave us alone for two seconds, Angela?"

The FBI-agent nearly shoved her out of the office and securely closed and locked the door behind her. Angela tapped her foot while eying the door up and down. _Too heavy to break down. Plus, I don't feel like bruising my shoulder._ She bit her bottom lip. _But I want to know what's going on in there. If only I had Infra-Red vision._

She contemplated asking Hodgins and Zach to blow up the door for a couple of seconds, but eventually decided to just walk away. She'd pump Brennan for information later. An explosion wasn't exactly going to go unnoticed by the couple inside, was it?

Just then the sound of Brennan giggling reached her ears. Angela's eyes went wide. _Bren's giggling?! What the hell is going on in there?_ She immediately turned back to the door and put her ear against it. More giggles… An occasional male laugh… The sound of something heavy being scraped over the floor… And… _Oh my God!_ she silently screamed. _Is that grunting I hear?_

Angela squatted down and pressed her ear against the keyhole, hoping to hear something more.

"Bones…" Booth groaned.

"Booth…" Brennan replied. "Don't touch my bun."

Angela's eyes were as big as saucers now. _Groaning plus bun equals…_ She didn't get to finish her thought. One second she had her ear pressed firmly against the door; the next moment she was lying sprawled out on Brennan's office floor.

"Angela?" Brennan asked her, eyebrows raised to unknown heights.

"Are you comfortable there, Angela?" Booth chimed in. "I could always get you a pillow, you know."

The artist groaned, got up and rubbed her nose. "What were you two doing in here?"

"Moving Bones' couch," Booth replied smoothly. "Some of your drawings had fallen behind it and we wanted to retrieve them."

"But… You guys were moaning."

"Moving a couch isn't easy, Angela. It's normal to groan when you're using force."

"And what was that I heard about not touching buns?"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Not buns, _bun_. Booth was fiddling with my hair… Again!" The last part was directed at Booth who gave his partner an innocent look.

Angela threw her hands up in the air before stalking off. "You two are driving me up the walls! I thought you guys were doing bad things. Ugh, you really shouldn't get a girl's hopes up!"

Behind her Booth and Brennan did a high-five.

"Poor Angela. She really needs to wash out her dirty thoughts," Brennan grinned.

"Told you she'd get the wrong ideas," Booth whispered to the anthropologist.

---°---

Yet another hour later, Angela was struggling to get a different pair of shoes on. She frowned when her gaze landed on her toenails.

_I hope they never see those babies._

She was about to pull on her other shoe when Hodgins swung her office door open.

"You have to come. Dr. Brennan and Booth are going at it!"

Angela was up and about in no time. With only one shoe on -a leather boot with a three inch heel- she raced as fast as she could to the platform. Only to find out that Hodgins had been joking.

The dynamic duo was going at it, all right. Only not in the way Angela had thought and wished. They were bickering… again.

Angela rolled her eyes heavenwards. _If there is a God, please make them jump each other one of these days. Especially in a place where I can view it._

She limped forward. "Go touch her bun somewhere else, Booth! Get a room, do it at her place; hell, in her office. But not here!"

The pair fell silent. Booth's hand was hanging in mid-air while Brennan was blocking his other arm. They both stared at her.

"You've switched clothes!" Brennan exclaimed.

Angela just shrugged. "So what if I did?"

"You're a shop-a-holic; do you know that?"

"Sue me," Angela curtly replied. "I love my clothes."

Booth stared at her. "What's got her panties in a twist? Or are you going commando Angela?"

"Better question; what the hell happened to her toenails?"

Angela felt like dying right there and then. In her hurry to see Brennan and Booth going at it, she had forgotten to put on her left shoe. Now the pair had a nice view of her "retro toenails". Each toenail was painted in a different colour. Some had a small design drawn on them; one even had a fake gem glued to it.

It was one of the things Angela had wished they'd never see. Along with the picture she had drawn of her and Hodgins doing some naughty things. That could be bad if it got out. Or it could lead to them doing fun things on her office desk like she imagined.

Hodgins came up behind her. "What's up with the funky toenails, Angela?"

The artist grimaced. "What happens in Paris, stays in Paris."

With her head held up high she hopped round to face him.

Hodgins chuckled. "You should have left your toenails there. They could frighten away the French."

Angela growled. "It was the French who painted them. Remember?"

"Oh yeah," Hodgins said, disheartened. "Hey wait a minute, man. I can just send all the clothes back!"

"If you wish to live long enough to sing another rendition of _Big Spender_, then I suggest you don't," Angela threatened menacingly.

Booth and Brennan fell around laughing. She heard Hodgins mumble on his way out, "Never mess with a woman and her shoes."

* * *

_You know who's next, right? °grins broadly°_


	5. Stalker!

Author's note: Cam's secrets are next on our list. That means that this chapter is about... Yup, Booth!

* * *

**--° Stalker! °--  
--------------------------------------------------**

Booth slowly leaned back in the office chair, propped his feet up on the desk, and tucked his hands behind his head. _This is the life,_ he thought. _No rotten corpses, no icky crime scenes, and no unnerving suspects to harass. Just me and…_ He let his gaze wander over the desk in search of something to finish his sentence with. A smile broke his face in half when he spotted the perfect object. Taking the hair band and stretching it repeatedly, he completed his thought _Just me and this hair band._

"Are you stalking me again? Isn't it bad enough you try to mess up my hair without stealing my stuff?"

He swivelled his head around to take a look at his partner, who was standing in the doorway with a couple of folders under her arm.

"If that ainit my Bones!" Booth grinned.

Brennan sighed deeply before making her way to her desk. She knew better than to roll her eyes; it would just create yet another argument about rolling eye patches.

"I'm not _your_ Bones, Booth. And get your Gucci's off my desk! I don't need dents on my table from your big feet!" she violently shoved his feet off the edge.

Booth clicked his tongue. "Not Gucci, Prada."

"Bless you," Brennan said to him as she flicked through the report she was holding.

"I wasn't sneezing, Bones. Prada is a famous shoe brand. Like Nike." One eyebrow arched, she stared at him. He supplied, "You know, just do it?"

"Angela's the shoe addict, not me. And no Booth, I will not just _do _it. Only clean thoughts in the office please."

"You should think of making that a sign for your door. 'No dirty thoughts. No sense of humour. No speaking of the English language either.'" Booth shot back, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

She kept her stare on him for so long, that he began to shift around nervously. "Turn your squint stare somewhere else, will ya?"

"I will," she spoke, tapping his shoulder with her folder, "When you take your butt out of my chair and somewhere else. Preferably far away from my office."

Booth slowly got up and moved away even slower, all on purpose to annoy Brennan. "Let me guess, you want to get some work done."

"Of course. Some people actually have a job; unlike some FBI-agents who apparently have got nothing better to do than to invade their partner's office," she growled..

This made Booth grin even wider. "Oh, but I am working." His fingers absent-mindedly played with the hair band he was still holding. "We, Bones, have got another fresh case."

Brennan immediately dropped all files onto her desk. "Why didn't you say so? And give me that back," she said as she brushed past him, snatching her hair band out of his grip.

Booth mocked shooting her with his gun behind her back before Brennan glared and told him to get a move on.

---°---

"Female, twenty to twenty-five years old," Temperance stated right before she gritted her teeth.

Booth was standing two yards away, rapidly tapping the railing of the platform as if his fingers were drumsticks and the railing his drums.

"Caucasian, fracture to the... Booth!" she snapped.

Booth turned around. "Our vic has got a fracture to his booth? I didn't know there was such a bone in the human body."

She rolled her eyes heavenwards, causing Booth to probe a finger in her direction. "You're doing that eye rolling thing again!"

"I've got every right to do so. You're saying stupid things again."

"Are you accusing me of being stupid?" Booth shot out, narrowing his eyes.

"No, I'm accusing you of annoying the heck out of me! You and your infernal drumming. Who do you think you are? One of Nirvana's band members?"

"Well, sorry for entertaining myself while you're working on that pile of rotten flesh and bones!"

Brennan sighed, pinched her nose bridge and pulled her hair band out of her hair. "Here. Occupy yourself with this. Maybe then I can get some work done. Like a whining kid you are."

He happily accepted the band and began wrapping it around his fingers. Booth was still fiddling with it when Angela made her appearance moments later. The artist eyed him up and down, curiosity radiating from her.

"Hey Bren, what's Booth doing?"

"He's playing with himself." Seconds later she had to duck away because of a hair band flying at the speed of lightning past her ear. "Hey, watch where you shoot that thing! I was nearly minus an ear there!"

Booth glared at her. "I'm playing with myself, Bones? What the hell made you say that?"

She cocked her head to the side, a smirk playing around her lips. "Maybe that wasn't my best choice of words, but it's true, is't it? You're entertaining yourself, therefore playing with yourself."

"Don't use your squint logic on me," he warned her. "And you actually used sexual innuendo! God forbid! Damn, I need something sweet right now, to recover from you unbelievably smart comeback line."

Angela held up her hands. "Don't look at me. Zack stole my stash of lolly pops, remember?"

"Right, I'm making a quick trip to the supermarket around the corner then."

"You," he pointed at his partner, "better be done with your examination when I get back."

And off he jogged.

Brennan looked at Angela. "You were lying, weren't you?"

"Yup, I got a big bowl of candy safely tucked away in the vault underneath the Angelator. I figured sending Booth away on a quest for sweets would give you some much needed peace and quiet."

The anthropologist smiled and held up her hand for a high-five. "You're evil, did you know that?"

"I'm _deliciously _evil," Angela concurred, slapping Brennan's palm.

"Just do me one favour, Angela."

"Yes, Bren?"

"Stop changing clothes!"

---°---

Half an hour later Booth strolled in, carrying a large pack of cookies. Munching down on one, he came to a stop at Brennans examination table.

"Still examining our vic, Bones? I thought we agreed you'd be finished by the time I got back?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full. You're showering the remains with cookie crumbs," she told him off, waving imaginary crumbs away before they could contaminate the body.

Unfazed, Booth shoved a cookie in her direction. "Want one?"

"Damn it, Booth. Keep those things to yourself, will you? I'm trying to do my job here! Do I want a damn cookie, honestly!"

"Well, I'm sorry, Bones," he grumbled. "I'll keep quiet while you squint at that thing. Not that that needs a lot of concentration."

Scowling at him, she put her hands on her hips. "Want to switch jobs? I'll wave around a gun, threaten a couple of suspects, and cram myself with everything eatable I can get my hands on, while you carefully examine remains with the utmost care."

"No way am I doing that, Bones," he said, scrunching up his nose. "I still want to enjoy my dinner tonight." After having licked off his fingers, he continued, "Speaking of which… Do you feel like grabbing a bite to eat on the way home?"

She shook her head. "Sorry Booth, I already have plans."

Booth looked lost for a minute. His gaze darted from his partner to the pack of cookies in his hands. "Well, I guess it's just you and me tonight, buddy."

---°---

She sighed deeply as she stared at her half-full wineglass.She was practically face down on the table, asleep with boredom. Had she dressed up for this guy? This unbelievably boring, dull, sleep inducing, soporific... She ran out of synonyms to describe how boring the guy actually was. Maybe she should add a few Zs for the effect.

As he rambled on about sales figures and being close to a promotion, her gaze wandered through the restaurant; until it came to a stop on a lonely figure sitting a couple of tables away. Brennan groaned.

"Excuse me," she said to her date, getting up and bearing down on the lonesome man who was fiddling with his napkin. "Stalker," she hissed.

Booth looked up, a smile dancing around his lips. "Well, hello there, Bones. What a pleasant surprise!"

"You're taking this stalker thing too far, Booth."

He innocently gazed up at her. "What are you talking about, Bones? It's just a coincidence that we are having dinner in the same restaurant."

"Don't give me that crap. Wherever I go, whenever I turn around, you are there." She put her hands on the table and leaned in. "Conclusion, you're stalking me. Which you really shouldn't be doing. I know ten different ways to torture and kill you with that fork."

He shrugged. "Big deal. I know fifteen ways to kill you with my spoon."

She gave him a good glare right before someone coughed behind her to attract her attention. "Is this man bothering you?" her date asked.

"It's more like the other way around, pal," Booth mumbled.

Temperance forced herself to give her date a smile. "No, not at all. Listen… What do you say we call it a night?"

The man's eyes flicked between the two partners. Then he slowly nodded. "I'm interrupting something, am I not? I'll umm… I'll leave you two to it. Don't call me, Tempe. Okay?" he said to her, slowly backing away before turning around and making a run for it.

She frowned and turned around to face Booth, who happened to have a very menacing look on his face while he slowly rotated a spoon between his fingers. "You scared him away!"

"Ah come on, Bones. Don't tell me you actually liked the guy! Right before you stormed towards me, you almost fell asleep above your bowl of soup!"

Brennan groaned something incoherent. _He's right. Again. Umph, why does he have to be right?!_

He draped his arm around her shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here. I'll buy you some decent food. And maybe," he whispered in her ear, "we can give that idea of Brennan's salon another thought?"

The anthropologist shoved her elbow between his ribs in a very unladylike manner. "Shut it, Booth. You are _not _touching my hair!"

"Ah, bummer... Tempe."

"Don't call me Tempe!"

"It's better than Bones. At least to your ears anyway."

"No, I've decided to stick with Bones rather than Tempe. At least Bones doesn't sound like the name of a tampon company."


	6. Game Over

Author's note: The final chapter, guys. I can't believe it's already over! °pouts° For those of you who are interested, Skelly and I are already thinking about co-writing again in the near future. I suggest you keep an eye on Skelly's account since we're going to post it under her name. For now, enjoy Cam's singularity!

* * *

**--° Game Over °--  
-------------------------------------**

"Crap, no!"

Dr. Camille Soroyan made a sudden move to her right and let out a string of curses. Then she sat up straight again, furiously clicking away with her mouse.

"No no, not a green one. Gimme something red."

She growled in frustration. "I said red, not blue! Come on baby, I need a red one."

It was like this that Hodgins found her; brow furrowed in utter concentration, her eyes glued to the computer screen, and her hand placed firmly on the mouse as if she wanted to become one with it. _Hmm... cyber sex anyone? _Hodgins thought. The lab could explode right in front of her nose and she wouldn't notice. An impossibly large grin appeared on Hodgins' face. He smelled a golden opportunity here.

"Dr. Soroyan?"

"Yes."

"I was wondering…"

"Yes."

"Could Zack and I do a little research?"

"Yes, yes. Fine, fine," Cam dismissed him with a wave of her hand, not taking her eyes off the screen.

Hodgins strode away, grinning broadly. Two minutes later Cam broke out of her intense concentration and stared at the door. _Crap, have I just authorized an illegal experiment? __I better stop them before they turn everyone's hair purple._ In his desire to play a trick on the entomologist, Zack had sent the video of a singing and dancing Hodgins wearing Angela's elf hat to Brennan as well as Cam. That's why the head of the team knew about Hodgins' little "fun hour".

Cam shuddered. _I have to stop them. I've got a meeting later on, and I really don't want to look like I stepped right out of a cartoon. And I really don't want to be criticised because of my workmates. It's not my fault they all escaped the mad house._

She quickly jumped to her feet and raced out of her office. Only to run into Angela two seconds later. Tops, skirt, trousers and shoes flew everywhere as the two women landed on their behinds on the ground.

"Oops, sorry 'bout that," Angela apologised.

Cam glared at her while brushing a pair of socks off her shoulder and fishing a red pair of panties out of her hair. "Angela, this is a lab, not a fashion show. If you want to strut around in Versace's latest creations, I suggest you enter "America's Next Top Model", but don't do it in _my _lab. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Angela nodded, beginning to crawl around on all fours to retrieve all of her clothes. "But I want to make a suggestion. You might wanna invest in that new black bra D&G are advertising."

"D&G? Who are they?" Cam asked, confused.

"Duh, Dolce and Gabbana. Who do you think I meant, Dimwit and Gigi?"

Cam rolled her eyes before asking her next question. "Now tell me, where is "the Musketeers with Chemicals"?"

The artist pointed heavenwards. "Up there. In the lounge area."

Cam groaned. "Please don't tell me they're going to bungee jump off the mezzanine? I really can't be picking up body parts of my staff right now."

As Angela watched Cam fly up the stairs towards the lounge area, she mumbled, "That one's been cooped up in that office of hers for too long. She has dug through too many dead guys intestines if you ask me. Needs a little shoe therapy."

Cam was at the lounge area in no time. She felt like strangling Angela with one of her recently bought silk bras when she laid eyes upon Booth and Brennan, instead of Hodgins and Zack. What made it even worse was the fact that the couple was apparently having another one of their animated and cosy-looking discussions.

"No Bones, you hold my hand like this. The goal of this game is to try to get your thumb on top of mine without using any other body parts."

Brennan raised her eyebrows. "What's the name of this game again?"

"It's called thumb wrestling," Booth explained. "Are we going to have a go at it or not?"

Oblivious to their audience, Booth counted to three before he began making feints in an attempt to distract his partner. Brennan attentively watched his antics, keeping her thumb raised and perfectly still. Then she gave him a crooked smile. One well-timed move later, Booth was wincing in pain, all blood being squeezed out of his thumb by Brennan.

"Bones, Jesus, let go!"

"I'm not Jesus," she curtly pointed out. "See, no zombie parts. Besides, Jesus can't help you now."

"Figure of speech, Bones, figure of speech; I wasn't asking Him for help!"

"Not that he could have done anything anyway, because he's _dead_," Brennan retorted.

In vain trying to pull free from her grasp, Booth shot back, "He's not dead. He lives inside everyone's heart."

"Oh really?" Her eyebrows were once again raised. She brought her face closer to his and quietly said, "Good to know you carry a piece of a dead human being around in your heart. Why don't you ask him to bail you out here, because you're obviously not succeeding on your own?"

Somehow Booth managed to wiggle free. He roughly grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. "Stop ridiculing my religion," he warned her in a low voice. "Some people actually believe that there is more to life than test tubes, examination tables and lab coats."

"Something more like stalking your partner?" Brennan asked him sweetly.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I wasn't stalking you?" Booth shot out.

"Oh please, I'd sooner believe in God than…"

"Dr. Brennan, Seeley," Cam interrupted them.

Booth instantly let go of Brennan and sat up straight. "Camille," he nodded.

Cam's eyes flicked between the couple. "Have you two seen Hodgins and Zack?"

"They were in test room C the last time I checked," Brennan offered.

"Thank you." Cam turned and walked away, throwing over her shoulder, "Keep the flirting for outside office hours, will you? This is a lab, not a place to hide out from your parents." She continued mumbling to herself all the way to test room C, "Can't believe they're getting all lovey-dovey on my watch. Just can't believe they're getting lovey-dovey _at all! _What the hell is this, match . com?"

She came to a stop right before the door leading to the test room where Hodgins and Zack where supposedly at.

"Are you sure we won't get fired for doing this?"

"For the millionth time, Zack, Cam authorised this experiment. No need to get all sweaty and scared."

Cam entered the room, her arms crossed and wearing a dangerous scowl. "But I sure am going to kick both of your asses if you don't put those substances down _right now._ Step back from the unauthorised test-tubes!"

Zack visibly blanched a little at seeing their boss. Cam's sudden appearance took Hodgins by surprise, making him drop the test tubes he had been holding.

"Shi-" A loud bang rang through the room when the substances mixed. "-it," Hodgins lamely finished, coughing madly because of the thick black smoke hanging around them.

Cam and Zack joined him in the coughing. As soon as the smoke had cleared up a bit, Cam glared at them. "This is the reason why I don't authorise your experiments. You two always end up blowing something to pieces!" She gestured at the destroyed lab room. "Clean this mess up, and do it properly, or I will make sure you two are cleaning it up with a toothbrush and your bare hands!"

"Yes Sir... Ma'am, I mean," Hodgins replied, saluting her. Zack saluted her also, his arm flying up so quickly to his skull it was a miracle he didn't cut off his own head.

Cam gave them a tight nod before exiting the test room and going to her own office. Satisfied to be getting back to what she had been doing before, she sat down in her office chair. She sighed in defeat and frustration moments later when she saw the words 'game over' in bold flashing on her screen.

"That's _it,_" Cam growled. "That's the final drop! I've had it with these loons!"

She stormed out of the room and straight onto the platform, shouting on the top of her voice, "All of you nutcases get your butts down here _now _or I'm calling the men in white coats!!"

Cam waited impatiently until Booth and Brennan had descended the stairs, Angela had sauntered onto the platform, and Hodgins and Zack had left the safety of the test room. One by one she stared them straight in the eyes; next she shook her head slightly.

Angela leaned a bit towards Hodgins to ask quietly, "Why does Cam look like she has jumped down a chimney with the fire still burning? Or is she just trying out the whole afro look for her hair?"

"That's what you get when you mix..."

Cam loudly cleared her throat. Next she glared at Booth who was snickering at her.

"Umm Camille? You have a little something..." the FBI-agent said, lightly touching his cheek.

"Shut up, Seeley. The same goes for the others. I've had about enough of all your weird habits!" She put her hands on her hips to look more menacing. "You," she nodded at Zack, "stop sneaking off to the bathroom to get some alone time with your precious sugar rush. You're like an addict! You," Cam gestured at Hodgins, "obviously feel the need to become the next famous Broadway star. Practice in your own time Frank Sinatra, not in the lab!"

She turned her scowl onto Brennan and Booth when Booth playfully nudged the anthropologist. "As for you two lovebirds; playing games during work hours? Honestly Seeley, 'you want to thumb wrestle me', what kind of pick-up line is that? If you want to hit on her, do it properly, will you? You're not a freaking ten year old! Why don't you just pull her hair while you're at it?"

"He does that quite alot," Brennan piped up, before quickly being silenced by the look Cam sent her.

"And as for you," she stared at Angela, "you should be working on the skull of the Maribel case instead of playing dress up. You're an artist, not a frigging Barbie doll! If you want to wear pretty clothes, then go and work for Twiggy and Tyra Banks!"

She pointed a probing finger at everyone. "You're supposed to be a professional team. We're known for solving cases in record times. Not for trying to reduce this establishment to dust." She shot a nasty look at Zack and Hodgins.

"Or being the winner of the New York fashion week." Cam's eyes glared daggers at Angela.

"And you two." Cam's head swivelled towards Booth and Brennan. "You two are the worst. All these bloody longing looks and gentle touches! Seriously, I'm authorising it. Find a closet! Because you are supposed to be solving crimes, not speed-dating!"

She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm the head of a team of nutcases. All your annoying little habits drive me up the walls, but do you know what frustrates me the most?" Cam crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes to slits. "You made me lose my game of Bubble Shooter!"

Brows furrowed in confusion, Brennan whispered to Booth, "Bubble Shooter?"

"It's a famous computer game, Bones. You have to shoot randomly coloured bubbles at other randomly coloured bubbles. The goal is to clean all the bubbles off the field. You have point the mouse to where you want the next bubble to go, and if three or more of them come together, they will detonate. The bigger the explosion - the more points you get. They say it's one of the most popular office games."

"Oh," Brennan nodded. "You will have to show it to me one day."

"Did I not just tell you to put one of Angela's socks in it?" Cam exploded. "I never thought I'd say this in the first place, never mind repeat it. Just _do _it, will you? Get it over with and out of the lab!"

"Dr. Soroyan?" a male voice interrupted her tirade. Cam spun around to find Dr. Goodman gazing at her. "Having trouble with your colleagues? Isn't your team cooperating?"

"My team? It's _your_ team now! I've had about enough today; I'm heading home!"

And just like that Camille Soroyan stormed away, her face and clothes all black from the explosion and the tips of her hair slightly burned off, curling up towards her roots, leaving Dr. Goodman alone with her "team of nutcases".

Dr. Goodman slowly turned to face his former colleagues. "What did I miss?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"One heck of a good show," Booth answered, pointing at the retreating back of a frazzled Cam.

The beloved cyber sex mouse would never be the same after being ripped from it's socket and flung at a certain Agent's head.

* * *

**Epilogue**

**Booth had a boo-boo and Brennan made it all better by allowing him to teach her Bubble Shooter. They later tried out said closet.**

**Zack cut short on the lolly pops and went to Sugar Rush Anonymous. He met his girlfriend there. Her name is Candy and she loves red cars.**

**Jack went to see about being in Broadway, but was quickly told he can't sing and microscopic insects weren't allowed on the stage.**

**Angela began to behave normally again and took to changing her clothes only twice a day. She squealed herself silly at Booth and Brennan's "encounter".**

**Dr Goodman found the latest antics of the team to be quite hilarious and laughed for three days straight.**

**And Camille, well let's just say her meeting was very soon followed by a quick trip to the hairdressers and the computer shop, to replace a rather destroyed mouse.**


End file.
